


If its wrong...

by Queenofthebees



Series: Truth [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 00:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15521973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: She shouldn’t have drunk so much. She realised now why father only let them have one cup at feasts for it made her reckless. But when Theon had offered her sneaky sips, she had gladly taken them. She had just wanted to forget.Only, the wine had only seemed to stoke her desire further, leaving her tossing and turning on her bed and sobbing hopelessly into her pillow for some relief.Lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling and felt her cheeks burn as she remembered hearing some kitchen maids giggling as they spoke about what they did at night.A true lady would never dream of touching herself. But Sansa couldn't care less at that moment. All she wanted was relief.Day 3 of Jonsa Smut Week: Drunk on You





	If its wrong...

She didn’t understand how it could happen.

She was a good girl, her mother often told her how proud she was of Sansa’s manners and behaviour. A true lady. And Sansa had strived her whole life to be such.

But a true lady didn’t desire her bastard half brother.

A true lady didn’t use another man to distract her from her feelings and certainly didn’t use another man to make the object of her affections jealous.

But somewhere during their lessons, when Jon’s eyes were upon her, when he smiled proudly at her progress, something had started to stir in her chest.

She shouldn’t have drunk so much. She realised now why father only let them have one cup at feasts for it made her reckless. But when Theon had offered her sneaky sips, she had gladly taken them. She had just wanted to forget.

Only, the wine had only seemed to stoke her desire further, leaving her tossing and turning on her bed and sobbing hopelessly into her pillow for some relief.

Lying on her back, she stared up at the ceiling and felt her cheeks burn as she remembered hearing some kitchen maids giggling as they spoke about what they did at night.

A true lady would never dream of touching herself. But Sansa couldn't care less at that moment. All she wanted was relief.

Biting her lip, she let her hand wander down her shift, her stomach fluttering as she felt her knuckles brush against it through the material. She was torn between being disgusted at her desperation and just wanting it to be over. And her need won out as she slowly slid her hand under her nightgown and pressed her fingers against her small clothes.

She frowned, confused as to why nothing was happening. She was sure that the maids had said they had touched themselves there and it had been good (better pleasure than the stable boy had managed to give her apparently). 

Deciding that perhaps it was necessary to actually touch her womanhood, she slowly slid her hand beneath the band, blushing furiously the whole time.

A gasp erupted from her throat as her fingertips brushed against something, her hips bucking up with interest. Taking a breath to steady her nerves, she pressed the strange bundle again, another pleasured gasp escaping her.

Growing bolder, egged on from the drink still flowing through her and the pleasure that was taking over, she started to press a little harder, her wrist slowly circling a delightful pressure upon the bundle of nerves.

She should be ashamed of the moan that she made, the way she spread her legs wider as her movements sped up. And gods, she was soaking her fingers and her thighs. If she wasn't so desperate to find relief, if she wasn't so drunk, she would be mortified at how she was behaving.

Jon's face burst into her mind and she cried out, her eyes clenching shut as she arched and tensed, complete bliss coursing through her as her thighs clamped shut, trapping her hand as her fingers pressed down on her nub.

Panting and flushed from shame and relief, she blinked back to reality and slowly removed her hand, wiping them idly on her shift.

She could feel the tears building behind her eyes and, before she could talk herself out of it, she had stepped out of bed and shoved her feet into her slippers before leaving her chambers. Now, the drink had given her the courage to storm to Jon’s chambers and bang her fist in the most unladylike manner until he wrenched the door open in annoyance.

“You have some nerve!” she hissed, shoving his chest roughly.

“Pardon?” he retorted, scowling at her as she slammed the door shut behind her.

“You told everyone else that you were leaving for The Wall but you didn’t tell me!”

He huffed out a breath through his nose, turning his head away to glare at the wall. She swallowed thickly, the drink making her more emotional and unable to stop the tears from forming.

Jon made a startled sound, instantly crossing the room to take her in his arms, his hand stroking her hair soothingly.

“I’m sorry Sansa,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Did I do something?” she mumbled.

_Did he see the way I looked at him when he emerged from the water? The way my eyes would follow the trail of water as it slid down his toned stomach and lower, lower…_

“No, of course not!” he said quickly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

It lasted too long, his lips pressing too hard and when he moved back, Sansa blinked at him in confusion as she watched his eyes drop to her lips and, _oh_ , how she wants him to kiss her.

“Jon…”

Her own eyes fixed on his lips and she felt her breath catch in her throat as she slowly raised her gaze to look into his eyes.

He was staring at her strangely, his eyes darker, his lips parted as though in disbelief as he continued to stare at her face.

If she had been clear-headed, she would have stepped back. She would be alarmed at the sudden urge to kiss him on those deliciously full lips. She would have turned and fled from his chambers to hers.

But she wasn't thinking straight, the wine was still fogging her brain. So, she moved forward and pressed her lips to his before he had a chance to realise her intentions.

She had imagined her first kiss many times since she had been old enough to want such things. She had thought about how her lover's lips would feel against her own, would imagine passion taking over and her partner clutching at her waist, her shoulders, her hair.

Not once had she imagined her partner freezing or pushing her away to look at her like a deer cornered by a pack of wolves. Swallowing her shame and bitter disappointment, she turned and ran from the room like she should have done in the first place.


End file.
